


I'm Getting Used To You

by aPseudonym



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Late night talks, M/M, Nightmares, falling asleep on people, mentions of Howard - Freeform, mentions of child abuse, whos kind of a dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-16 14:34:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7272061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aPseudonym/pseuds/aPseudonym
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A cough sounded behind him, and he whipped around so fast he almost tripped. Catching his balance, Tony stood and glared at Steve sitting on the couch, a hand over the reactor. </p><p>“Jesus <i>Christ,</i> Rogers.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ignore the Parks and Recreation reference.

Tony was afraid of the dark.

Not that he'd admit it to anyone though, he had enough trouble admitting it to himself. After Afghanistan, he'd had trouble adjusting to everything. Water. Temperature. The dark. The reactor. The food, the clothing, the people. Everything.

Eventually, Tony managed to get rid of most of the irrational baggage. Except the dark. That stayed. He still had trouble with water too, sometimes. Not nearly as much as the darkness though.

The reactor shone dimly through his t-shirt, casting the room into soft shadows and hiding the darkness. Technically speaking, he could probably make the reactor blank, could turn off the light and turn it dark. It glowed softly and Tony let out a quiet snort of laughter. _No fucking way._

The bed was cold and sort of sweaty, but the nightmares were already fading away. Sometimes, after a particularly bad bout of dreams, they wouldn't let go after Tony woke up, and they would dig their claws into his shirt, seeping into his skin. Usually a shower would shake them off, a fresh start and a fresh day, but it was (he checked the clock) 3:31 am. Christ. 

His spine popped when he stretched, giving up on sleep. The floor didn't creak when Tony stood up, and he shuffled towards the door. The arc reactor lit his way as he walked, and he didn't bother to grab a flashlight or phone. 

Navigating in the almost dark wasn't hard, Tony knew practically every tile on these floors. He'd designed the place, even built parts of it himself. The bar in the living room, for example. The bar. A drink right now sounded good. Great, even. 

Stealthy, Tony crept upstairs toward the bar. He wasn't really sure why he was bothering to be sneaky, as the only other people living in the house were bound to be asleep by now. Or if they weren't, at least on a completely different floor. Tony tried to be less obvious about tip-toeing though his own house and reminded he'd already gone through his ninja phase. 

Howard hadn't exactly liked that phase. It had involved Tony hiding in unexpected places and jumping out at him suddenly, yelling _“BOO!”_ Tony absently rubs at the scar on his left hand. Howard'd hadn't liked that phase, and it showed. 

The bar sat clean and cool in the dim lights, (Jarvis must have turned them on) the marble gleaming. Tony was particularly proud of the bar. It involved all his favorite things. Alcohol, architect, and those round spinny bar stools that only vintage bars had. 

Vaguely, as Tony decided the bar needed an official name, (he wasn't completely sure about The Snakepit yet) a cough sounded behind him, and he whipped around so fast he almost tripped. Catching his balance, Tony stood and glared at Steve sitting on the couch, a hand over the reactor. 

“Jesus _Christ, _Rogers.”__

Steve had the grace to look embarrassed, but Tony could see his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Um, sorry. Thought you knew I was here.”

His voice was hushed, even though they were probably the only people currently in this floor. Unless there were other super soldiers hiding in plain sight. Tony doubted it. 

“What- what are you doing up?”

Steve huffed out a quiet laugh through his nose, studying Tony. “Could ask you the same thing.” 

The bar (snakepit, whatever) was cold when Tony leaned on it, desperately trying for nonchalance, and ignoring the fact he was in sweatpants two sizes too big and his hair was probably (definitely) a wreck. 

“Wow. Didn't peg you as the cliché type. Though, you did come from the 50’s, so maybe it's still original to you.”

Steve rolled his eyes, (and Tony had _definitely_ not pegged him as the sarcastic type either) and holds up a small book. “Sketching. Helps me cope, in a way. You?” 

Tony gestured vaguely at the bar behind him, shrugging one shoulder. “Couldn't sleep. Came up to get a drink.” 

It is definitely getting awkward, Tony thinks, because the conversation is going nowhere and he's starting to get sloppy with his words, ranging into that oblivious, no-filter place he gets to when he's tired. Steve nods, furrowing his eyebrows a little. 

He reaches for Scotch and a tumbler, hands shaking slightly, because this is _terrible_ idea, and Tony just wants to go back to the safety of his bed, but it'd look weird if he left without what he came for, so he pours a finger of Scotch into the glass instead.

Steve watches him from the couch as Tony sips the drink self-consciously, running his fingers around the rim of the tumbler. The silence grows slowly, and Tony is on the verge of slamming down the glass and retreating to his room when Steve gestures at him, patting the couch. “Will you- do you want to sit down?” 

_Oh no._

“Wha- yeah. Sure.” 

Tony's mouth is faster than his brain, and it takes him a second to realize what he'd just said. _Fuck. Fuck._

But Steve looks grateful, relieved, even. He half smiles at Tony as he makes his way to the couch, setting the Scotch on a coaster that's sitting on the coffee table. He flops gracelessly next to Steve, wincing internally at the movement. Steve doesn't seem to mind, instead flipping open his sketch book to a fresh page. Tony leans back against the cushions. 

It's still quiet, but it slowly folds into something more comfortable. Familiar. Tony watches Steve sketch, the gentle scratch of pencil on paper. Steve's _good_ thinks sluggishly, watching the lines curve and thicken on the paper.

~•~•~• 

Steve doesn't move. It's not like he _can't,_ but there is currently a self proclaimed genius-playboy-billionaire-philanthropist sleeping curled into his shoulder. He fights back a smile as Stark- _Tony_ shifts and mutters in his sleep. Steve had originally come up to the living room to just sketch. He'd found that drawing the outlines of his dreams helped smooth them out. Make them manageable. 

And then Tony had come padding into the room, with cotton pants that pooled around his ankles and his usually perfect hair a _wreck._ Spiked with sleep and laziness. Steve pushed down the urge to run his fingers through it, reminding himself this wasn't Bucky, and he doubted Tony would appreciate the gesture. 

They'd attempted conversion, and somehow he'd ended up on the couch with Tony passed out on his shoulder. 

He didn't really mind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something big and warm was squished against his side, and Tony squinted at the blurry shape and wished the room wasn't so bright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two! Sorry it's late, I had some trouble writing the second part. Hope you like it!

The sun slanted through the curtains directly onto Tony's face.

He turns and moans, throwing an arm over his face and distinctly remembering telling Jarvis not to open the curtains in his room. Actually… Tony didn't even remember going to his room. Or falling asleep, for that matter. Something big and warm was squished against his side, and Tony squinted at the blurry shape and wished the room wasn't so bright. Slowly, his eyes adjusted and the shape focused. Tony blinked blearily at it. 

Some sort of person… he didn't remember taking anyone home last night-- oh. Last night. Steve. Oh no. _no no no no._ Had he actually fallen asleep on him? _Oh god._

The shape shifted as Steve burrowed into the blanket he’d apparently thrown over them. Slowly, Tony inched away from Steve, gently standing up and definitely not looking at Steve’s bedhead. _Get a grip, Stark._ The coffee machine beeped at him from across the room, but Tony ignored it, backing away from the couch and immediately tripping on his pajama pants. His arm flailed out and caught the edge of the bar counter before he hit the ground, but Steve only huffed in his sleep, turning slightly. 

There was no force on earth that could make him stay here until Steve woke up. He'd never live it down. It'd be a permanent incident on his Top Ten embarrassment record. And Tony was including those leaked sex tapes that were all over YouTube. Tony shuddered.  
He made his way back up to his room quickly, practically sprinting. The clothes he'd worn yesterday were still strewn across the floor, and Tony pulled on the jeans he'd found partly under to bed. The tank top he'd slept in _(with Steve! Oh god)_ stayed on, and Tony figured he was presentable enough.

The stairway to his lab was thankfully devoid of soldiers, super ones or otherwise. Tony wasn't entirely sure what he'd have done if Steve had been waiting there for him, and he forced down the blush that was working it's way on to his face. He hadn't even brushed his teeth yet, for Christ's sake. 

_Beep._ Smudged glass opened up to his workshop, and Tony shut the doors behind him, immediately darkening the glass and resisting the urge to put his face in his hands. 

Okay. He can handle working. Building. That was second nature. Not falling asleep on someone. Practically cuddling. Tony didn't want to even _think_ about that. Ever. He sank into his chair and swiveled it around once, hoping Steve felt the same way so they'd never have to have a conversation about this. 

Dum-E whirred up to him, offering a glass of blended grass in his claw. He beeped happily and Tony took the glass from him, pretending to take a sip. Steve doesn't seem like the type to ignore this. For the sake of the team or some bullshit. 

Tony shook his head and shoved all the thoughts about Steve out of his mind. He fired up the soldering torch, but couldn't concentrate enough to handle the delicate slivers of metal. Instead, Tony grabbed a wrench _(sized eleven and a quarter)_ and slid under his car, where the parts were greasy and familiar and _safe._ He breathes a sigh of relief and forgets everything else. 

~•~•~•

Steve had thought it might be awkward when Tony woke up him, but apparently he'd fallen asleep too, and he'd woken up alone on the couch with Tony long gone. 

The whole thing had a suspicious air of a one night stand, even though Steve immediately dismissed that as ridiculous. They hadn't even done anything. And even if he'd wanted to (Steve pushes down that thought resolutely) he was pretty sure Tony was straight. 

Actually, he'd never asked. Although, it wasn't much of a conversion topic. Steve folds the blanket absently, wondering if it's too late to go running. Probably. 

The coffee machine beeps insistently on the counter, and he finds it sort of strange Tony left without a mug of coffee. In the mornings, Tony usually can't even function without caffeine, and Steve finds it (adorably) hilarious to watch him stumble into the kitchen still half asleep and looking coffee. 

The couch is soft and comfortable but he gets up anyways, finding Tony's favorite mug still sitting in the cupboard, the big white one that says _**What Is Science?** _ on the front. Steve isn't exactly sure where Tony is, but he fills the mug regardless. He heads straight for Tony's lab, and the music that flows out tells him Tony's already there. 

Trying not to spill the coffee, Steve makes his way down the stairs and pauses at the darkened glass. The doors aren't usually dark, but he knocks on them anyways. The music doesn't stop, and no one lets him in, so Steve punches in his code and they slide open.  
Surprisingly, the lab is empty. Tony's not at his workbench or at the mini bar/kitchen he'd installed in the corner. Steve's about to leave and look somewhere else, when a wrench clangs to the floor and he hears muffled swearing coming from under a bright red convertible. Tony is barely visible on a roller under the car, legs sticking out. 

Steve grins, walking over and tapping his foot against Tony's leg. The leg jerks as Tony twitches, and the surprised shout of “ _Fuck!_ ” makes Steve chuckle. Tony pushes himself out from under the car and glances up at Steve. Something like a blush starts to work its way onto his face, and he wheels himself back under. 

Steve hooks the edge of the roller with his shoe and pulls Tony back out. 

There's a definite flush on Tony's neck and cheeks, and Steve tries not to laugh. He gestures to the coffee mug instead, holding it out to Tony, who looks hopelessly confused. 

“You… brought me coffee?”

This time, Steve actually does laugh, catching Tony's hand and pulling him up, pressing the mug into his hands. 

“Yeah. I've actually never seen you go a morning without it, so I figured I'd bring you a cup.”

Tony sips from the mug, walking over the faded couch and sinking down on it. Steve follows him, and they end up sitting on the couch together in almost the exact same position as they were upstairs. Tony must realize this at the same moment he does, because he hops right back up from the couch, coffee spilling over the sides of the mug.

Steve shakes his head, because _honestly,_ Tony will avoid the hilariously large elephant in the room until he dies, apparently. 

“You know, it’s okay you fell asleep on me.”

Tony chokes on a sip of coffee, coughing for a minute. He sets the mug down and avoids Steve eyes. 

“I know.” 

But he still won't look at Steve, and he figets with the handle of the mug, so Steve gets up off the couch and puts a hand on Tony's shoulder. Tony startles at the contact, nervously looking up at Steve. 

“It's okay. Seriously. Feel free to fall asleep on me anytime.” 

Tony shifts under his hand, his expression somewhere between embarrassed and relieved. He shrugs out from under Steve hand with a half smile, heading back toward his workbench. 

Dum-E wheels up to Steve, and he pets him absently. Tony grins at him as Steve sits back on the couch, fingers already on a pad of paper and a grease pencil he'd found on the lab floor. Tony writes calculations in the air in front of him, mumbling and swearing as he works, already lost in his diagrams. 

It's pleasant, and it's already starting to feel familiar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is arrogant, loud, self obsessed and brash, with an ego the size of Manhattan and a mean streak that could make grown men cry. 
> 
> Steve could not explain his _infatuation ___with the man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I am _so sorry ___this is so late, but I'm trying my best

Tony is arrogant, loud, self obsessed and brash, with an ego the size of Manhattan and a mean streak that could make grown men cry. 

Steve could not explain his _infatuation ___with the man.

Things had mostly returned to normal, and by _things _he meant Tony's extreme embarrassment at falling asleep on him.__

__He hadn't minded (maybe even enjoyed it) but Tony was not the kind of person to cuddle up with every night. Hell, Tony barely even slept at all. That's what really worried him. Steve had made it a habit to understand his team, to get to know the person behind the guns and enemy fire._ _

__He'd connected with everyone else, but Tony's still a mystery, the genius insomniac who can't function without coffee and builds incredible inventions on a daily basis and eats entire pizzas by himself._ _

__And Steve forgets. Forgets that not everyone in his team is a soldier, forgets Tony isn't trained for any of this, for the blood and torture and muddy grit that's fighting. But that doesn't stop Tony from marching on, like the best soldier Steve's ever had. His file is wide open, but Steve suspects someone must've hacked into it (Tony, most likely) because it's the shortest file he'd ever seen, with a list of his shortcomings (alcoholism, insomnia, anxiety, and a couple charges of public indecency) and a single sentence near the end that reads _‘Three months captured; Afghanistan.’ _____

___Basically, it tells him nothing._ _ _

___In a fit of determination, Steve makes it his personal quest to find out who Tony actually is (and about that stint in Afghanistan). Unsurprisingly, is not easy.  
It turns out to be ridiculously hard for him to get Tony to open up, no matter how subtle Steve is._ _ _

___Tony is fluid, always moving and working, effortlessly dodging his questions and snapping back with a quirky comeback. They don't hate each other anymore, and that's almost good enough for Steve, and he almost gives up, almost accepts that he'll never understand this impossible extraordinary man._ _ _

___Until they're both back at Tony's stupidly extravagant bar, and Steve mentions he can't get drunk. Tony blinks at him for a minute, then laughs and immediately challenges him to a drinking contest._ _ _

___And a terrible (wonderful) idea snaps into Steve's brain._ _ _

___Steve can't get drunk and Tony's tolerance for alcohol is through the roof, but they both pound back shots, Tony matching Steve drink for drink. It's already the time of night where everything takes on hilarious undertone, and soon they're both giggling like idiots, Steve roaring with laughter when Tony tells him of some of the people he's met, and Tony cackling when Steve tells stories from the 50’s._ _ _

___It takes them a while to wind down, and by then Tony is sufficiently drunk and Steve is disgustingly sober._ _ _

___“Okay, two truths and a lie.”_ _ _

___Tony doesn't slur, but he comes pretty damn close, setting his tumbler on the counter and grinning up at Steve like the Cheshire cat._ _ _

___Steve thinks a moment, swirling his drink around. “Alright. I've spent the night in a jail cell. I hate the taste of cough syrup. I never went to college.”_ _ _

___Tony considers, propping his head up on his fist. “Well, it was the 50’s, so I'm thinking the college ones true. And probably the jail thing. So... you actually like the taste of cough syrup?” He shudders. “Blech.”_ _ _

___“Yeah, yeah, nice guessing.” Steve grins at him. “Your turn.”_ _ _

___The drinks are completely forgotten, and Tony leans back in his chair, squinting at the light. “‘Kay. I have a fear of water. I love the beach. I got accepted into MIT at fifteen."_ _ _

___Steve raises an eyebrow at him. “MIT at fifteen? Gotta be a lie.”_ _ _

___Tony whoops, lifting his arm for a fist pump and almost falling off his chair. “Nope! I hate the beach! Sandy and dirty and fuckin’ nasty.”_ _ _

___It's quiet for a minute as Steve digests this with a kind of awe. The fear of water and the beach clicks together, because if Tony has a phobia of water then _of course ___he'd hate the beach, with it being the biggest source of water on the planet. MIT at fifteen though… he lets out a quiet whistle and shakes his head. Tony spins around once on his stool, oblivious to Steve's eyes._ _ _

____He reaches out and catches Tony's shoulder, stopping the spinning because just looking at it is making him dizzy, and he's not even drunk. It pulls their faces closer, and Tony stares at him for a minute, eyes too bright and glassy, face flushed by the alcohol. _Why does it always happen like this? ___Steve thinks despairingly, because Tony right now is warm and easy and fucking gorgeous. He's not totally smashed, but he's tipsy enough that Steve can't be sure what he'll remember in the morning. Tony swivels his tumbler on the counter, then sets it down and leans over and kisses Steve._ _ _ _

_____It's drunk and sloppy, Tony's lips warm and so fucking soft, and it's so sudden Steve's brain short-circuits completely and Tony pulls away._ _ _ _ _

_____He stares at Steve a second longer, then folds his arms and the counter and buries his face in them._ _ _ _ _

_____It's silent for a long moment, Steve frozen to his chair and Tony's face hidden in his arms. It takes a minute for Steve to shake off the daze, reaching out to gently touch Tony's shoulder._ _ _ _ _

_____“Tony?”_ _ _ _ _

_____A soft snore is the only thing that answers, and Tony unconsciously curls into his touch._ _ _ _ _

_____Steve tips his head back and prays for patience, an uncontrollable smile spreading across his face. Tony is disturbingly light as he slips him from his chair, his fingers winding gently into Steve's shirt. The tower is huge, but Steve knows where Tony's room is, and he navigates the floors with ease, careful not to bump into anything. The door doesn't squeak when he pushes it open with his foot, padding in and laying Tony on his ridiculously oversized bed._ _ _ _ _

_____Steve hesitates, then slips Tony's shoes off, the converse hitting the ground with a soft thud. He considers the jeans next, then skims a finger along the waistband and determines, yes, Tony is wearing underwear. The buttons pop open easily, and Steve slides them off, biting back a laugh at Tony's briefs, patterned with cartoon cats giving him the finger._ _ _ _ _

_____The reactor shines dimly through Tony's shirt, and Steve throws a blanket over him, leaving the shoes and jeans lying on the floor. The door clicks shut, and Steve makes his way up to his room and tries not to smile so hard._ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments fuel my soul


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve shrugs, grinning uncontrollably. “Are you talking about that one time you got really drunk and had a deep meaningful conversation with me and then kissed me?”

_I'm so glad I can't get hangovers_ is the first coherent thought in Steve's mind when he wakes up, and he huffs out a laugh at the way Tony must be feeling. Probably isn't even awake yet. He swings his feet out of the bed and glances at the clock, reading _6:30_ in the blue digital numbers. _Definitely not awake yet. _His sweatpants are folded in the locker at the foot of his bed, and he pulls them on and finds his exercise shoes outside his door.__

It’s quiet in the mornings, but as Steve passes the kitchen Jarvis speaks out, his electronic voice hushed. “Would the Captain like some breakfast before exercising?”  
Jarvis doesn’t startle him anymore, but Steve still marvels at Tony's ability to make something like Jarvis, a intuitive AI who even knows when to keep his voice quiet. "Uh, sure. And please, just call me Steve."

Steve flips the low kitchen lights on, grabbing a banana from a bowl on the counter. He almost leaves, but on second thought goes back into the kitchen and measures out coffee grinds. Jarvis could do it, but he makes a cup of coffee, even though Tony probably still won’t be up by the time he comes back. He flips the kitchen lights off, and switches the coffee to _Warm_ and heads out the door. 

~•~•~•

All things considered, Tony was pretty experienced in waking up in strange places. 

Technically, his own bed wasn't a strange place, but how he got there was a different story. The last thing he remembered was playing two truths and a lie with Steve. Steve… _oh please tell me he didn't carry me here_ he thinks desperately, because it's one thing to have Rhodey pull him to his room when he's wasted, but Steve? God help him. A pair of jeans and the white tips of his shoes peek out from under the bed, and he takes a deep breath before lifting the blanket and checking his legs. The Lord Nermal cats on his briefs stare back, all of them giving him the finger. 

Tony groans, pulling the blanket back up over his face. Maybe he could just stay in bed forever. Avoid the embarrassment of seeing Steve ever again. There’s something else in the back of his mind, something he’d done right before he passed out. Somehow, he felt that whatever it was, it completely trumped Steve carrying him to bed and stripping him to his underwear and t-shirt. Maybe it was the fact Steve couldn't get drunk, so he was probably totally sober while Tony was smashed. 

The night was starting to come back to him in bits and pieces, Tony vaguely remembering bragging about MIT and saying something about his aquaphobia. Oh god. If Steve asked about that it’d lead to the waterboarding and Afghanistan and Tony was not ready to have that conversation with him. Or anyone, for that matter. 

The bed is starting to get cold and he’s hungry, so staying in bed all day isn't as plausible as he’d thought. Tony huffs out a breath and wrinkles his nose at the smell, slumping back on the bed. It creaks as he rolls out of it, pulling on the jeans laying on the floor. After brushing his teeth twice, the need for coffee drives him out the door, and Tony hopes to god he doesn’t meet Steve in the hallway.

Thankfully, the route he takes to the kitchen is Steve-free, and he sighs in relief at the empty kitchen. The coffee machine beeps insistently, a full pot already brewed. Tony squints suspiciously at it, but fills a mug anyway. The coffee tastes amazing, and Tony sips at it until his headache starts to subside. Caffeine usually jumpstarts his brain, but he still feels like a zombie, so he sits there for a little while. More of last night is starting to come back, and suddenly Tony remembers sitting on this same stool and leaning in and kissing Steve.

_Oh my god._

The coffee suddenly doesn't taste so good anymore, and Tony pushes it away slowly, letting his head sink down on the table with a quiet thud. It physically hurts, that he might have just ruined any chance he'd had with Steve over some drunken kiss. Or worse, what if he'd even ruined their friendship with it? Steve could be a raging homophobic for all he knew. He’s a little amazed at his ability to screw up, and also kind of amazed at Howard's prediction of _you'll never amount to anything but a fuckup Tony_ is coming true. 

It's pretty hard to lift his head off the table, but he manages it, leaving the half drunk cup of coffee in the ring that pooled around it. He heads to his lab, pretty much planning on never coming out. 

~•~•~•

It’s dark and still when Steve comes back to the tower, panting and slightly sweaty from his run. The kitchen lights are on when he steps in for a glass of water, and he frowns at the half empty cup of coffee sitting in the middle of the counter. It’s cold when he picks it up, pouring out what’s left of it and setting it in the sink. He’s never known Tony to not finish his coffee, even if its days old. 

“Jarvis? You know where Tony is?”

Even though he’s an AI, Jarvis seems to pause before answering him. 

“Sir has requested me to keep his whereabouts unknown to you, Captain.”

Steve sighs a little at the _Captain,_ wondering if Tony asked Jarvis to call him that again. He absently tells Jarvis thanks, turns and heads down the stairs, because the lab is the most likely place to find Tony at any hour of the day. 

He punches in his code in the keypad at the bottom of the stairs, and sure enough, Tony’s standing with his back to him, oblivious to the world. Tony has some kind of brightly colored hologram spinning around him, and Steve’s pretty sure he’s wearing the same clothes as yesterday. There’s music playing somewhere, and Tony taps his foot to the beat, pulling objects out of the hologram and tossing them into a digital wastebasket. It beeps when he scores, a _100%_ lighting up like a video game. Steve ducks his head and bites back a laugh, taking a moment to appreciate the fact that Tony took the time to program a simple trash can into a game. Tony still hasn’t noticed him, so he reaches out and taps his knuckles against the wall. The music quiets, and Tony looks over his shoulder, then groans and goes back to whatever he’s working on. 

Steve sighs, because _of course_ Tony’s going to be weird about this. The door slides shut behind him as he walks in front of Tony, hopping up to sit on a clear space of desk. Tony glances at him, twirling a screwdriver through his fingers. It might just be the fluorescent lighting of the lab, but Steve could swear he sees a blush starting to color in Tony’s face. Steve sits there for a moment, watching the blush get redder by the second. 

It’s quiet for a minute, until Tony puts down the screwdriver and claps his hands together 

“So! This is awkward. But, we’re both adults so we can ignore everything that happened like adults.”

Steve just laughs, settling more comfortably on the desk. “What makes you think I want to forget last night?” He grins, laughing outright at Tony’s expression. Tony groans again, tipping his head back

“You can’t blame me for doing stupid stuff when I'm drunk, _god,_ that's practically why I’m famous.”

“Stupid stuff? You know, it’s the strangest thing, but I can’t remember a lot of last night. I guess you’ll just have to remind me.”

Tony glares at him, folding his arms across his chest. “You’re the one who’s immune to alcohol, asshat.” 

Steve shrugs, grinning uncontrollably. “Are you talking about that one time you got really drunk and had a deep meaningful conversation with me and then kissed me?” 

The chair squeaks when Tony sits in it and thumps his head against the desk, his voice muffled by the wood. “It wasn’t even a deep or meaningful conversation, it was fucking two truths and a lie.

“To be fair, it’s not the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.” 

Tony lifts his head off the table and squints at Steve. “What?”

Steve stares back, hoping this wasn’t a bad idea. 

“I said, I don’t think it was a dumb idea.”

It takes a moment to sink in, and Tony blinks at him, feeling confused and stupidly hopeful. “The the conversation or the kissing thing?” 

Steve shrugs and hops off the desk. “Both.”

Tony studies Steve, definitely blushing now. “So-- you want-- I mean, you like--”

He stops and takes a breath, looking up at the ceiling.

“The answer to all your questions is yes,” Steve says, taking his hand and pulling Tony out of the desk chair. Tony nods up at him, looking a little lost. His hand tightens almost imperceptibly around Steve’s, and he steps closer, looking down at Tony. 

“Is this-- you want this?” 

Tony huffs out a little laugh, then stands up on his toes to gently press their lips together. Tony’s lips are chapped and warm, and Steve thinks that maybe they’re the best thing ever to happen to him. 

They stand there for a moment, Steve’s hands around Tony’s hips, until Tony breaks away and drops back to his normal height, grinning up at Steve. 

“You didn’t just get me drunk so you could take advantage of me, did you?”

Steve shakes his head, laughing a little. “No, but now that I know…”  
He presses a quick kiss to Tony’s hair before letting him go. 

Tony steps away reluctantly, and Steve hops back onto the desk, content to just watch Tony in his element.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit im done  
> my original one shot somehow turned into this 4 chapter long...thing, so thank you guys for reading and sticking with me through this :D


End file.
